The Reverberate Hills
by MissTempleton
Summary: A missing necklace very quickly becomes the least of Jack and Phryne's concerns, as a mining company turns out to have a very rotten core. "Hallow thy name to the reverberate hills" - Shakespeare, Twelfth Night.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Miss Fisher?"

"Yes, Inspector?"

"First of all, I think I should apologise. When I suggested lunch with the gentleman from Consolidated Copper, I knew it might be a touch challenging, but thought you would be able to help him locate his wife's diamonds."

"Please don't worry, Inspector, I quite understand that your intentions were of the best."

"You're most generous, Miss Fisher. I find myself moved to ask, though, whether you happen to have your lock pick about your person?"

"I do indeed. I am a big believer in keeping my most important assets close."

"I'm delighted to hear that we agree on these things, Miss Fisher. After all, you agreed to marry me."

"I did, didn't I? So far, that seems to have worked out rather nicely."

"You could be forgiven for thinking otherwise based on today's experience. It's perhaps a silly question to ask whether you can reach your lock pick?"

"Inspector, neither of us can reach it. Not with our hands anyway. I am quite flexible – as you will know – but with my hands cuffed behind me, I am unable to reach my lock pick. And as your hands are cuffed to mine, I fear you can't either. One thought does occur to me …"

"Yes, Miss Fisher?"

"I could reach it if it had been dropped on the floor. And I once taunted a tennis player that you were extremely talented in using your teeth about a lady's person."

"Oh, God."

"Inspector, this is no time to be coy. It's not as though your teeth haven't been there before."

"This isn't quite the same, Miss Fisher. I suppose I should just be glad that we didn't find ourselves in this situation a year ago."

"Forgive me if I sound acerbic, Inspector, but if we had, an awful lot more fun could have been had an awful lot sooner."

"I knew I loved you, Miss Fisher. Hold still."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Unlocking her own cuffs proved more difficult than unlocking the Inspector's and she made a mental note to teach him the invaluable use of the lock pick at the earliest possible opportunity. Really, one had no notion what they were teaching trainee policemen these days – perhaps Dot should teach Hugh, too. At least, while she was labouring at her own cuffs he was scouting the room in which they were incarcerated, and had a piece of good news to report.

"Things could be worse, Miss Fisher – they've left the key in the lock."

With a handily-sized gap under the door, the race between them for him to find a large enough sheet of paper in the waste basket, push it under the door and dislodge the key onto it to retrieve on the paper, and her to release herself from her handcuffs was a dead heat.

The door was gingerly unlocked, and two heads appeared around it, each looking both ways and then back at the other to confirm that the coast was indeed clear – in the immediate vicinity at least. Clearly, their captor had misplaced faith in the resilience to tampering of police standard-issue restraints.

Keeping close to the wall, they made their way back along the corridor whence they had been so rudely escorted a little while earlier. Gaining the stairwell, they had a brief debate that was no less heated because it was confined to whispers.

"We should get out of here."

"Jack, don't be such a killjoy. I want to find out what on earth Cosworth has in his office that meant he had to lock us up in case we'd seen it when his secretary showed us in there. He surely can't have been planning to hold us forever, so whatever it is must only be there for a short time – and he's quite possibly going to do a runner as well. We simply have to go and look!"

The Inspector rolled his eyes, but painful experience had taught him that the Honourable Phryne Fisher – Mrs Robinson, in off-duty hours – was almost impossible to divert from her chosen path. What she said also made sense, and if he'd really rather she was out of harm's way and the matter being dealt with by him and his professional colleagues, he certainly didn't have the energy to say so.

They descended the stairs to the first floor, where the executive offices were, and also the dining room where they'd enjoyed some truly excellent refreshment, before being unceremoniously locked up by their host, apparently for the sole crime of having been shown into the wrong room for coffee. They still moved cautiously, but with increasing confidence – it appeared that the employees of Consolidated Copper knocked off early on Fridays, and the place was deserted.

Finally, they gained the door of the Chairman's office, and Jack reached for the handle. It turned easily, and he slowly swung the door wide.

They both stepped into the room, and stopped short.

Herbert Cosworth, Chairman of Consolidated Copper, was now taking no exception whatsoever to their presence in his office.

This could have been because they were both exceptionally interesting people, who were always disposed to help those in need of assistance in things like tracking down lost diamond necklaces.

Or it could have been because of the bullet hole drilled neatly between his eyebrows.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Herbert … Ernest … Cosworth." Senior Constable Collins scribed industriously in his notebook.

"Have you met Mrs Cosworth?" asked Phryne over her shoulder from where she was busily inspecting a filing cabinet. With no office staff in sight, she had decided she would make hay, and had uncovered a reach seam of opportunity in the personnel files on every member of the board.

"No," said Jack succinctly. "I don't think I even have an address, so if you find one in those files, that would be handy."

"I haven't found his, yet, but there's a James Cosworth, Chief Operating Officer – a son, perchance?" Jack looked up from his position by the desk where he was leafing through the stacks of paperwork.

"Sounds like a safe bet," he agreed. "Good to know that nepotism's alive and well." He replaced the last of the documents.

"Nothing. Perhaps the killer took whatever it was with them. Collins, is there anything from the doorman on people entering and leaving the office this afternoon?"

"Almost too much, sir. We have a list of everybody entering and leaving the building throughout the day; and it includes pretty much everyone who works in this office, so it's a long list. Then the trouble is as well that there's also a service entrance at the rear of the building, which isn't monitored, so there's nothing to stop someone leaving through the front door and re-entering at the back – or sneaking in the back door."

"Well, we know he was still alive when he locked us up at around three o'clock, and dead when we found him just after five – we can start with the people who we believe to have been still in the office at that time. Someone must have heard the gun go off."

"Unless they used a silencer, Jack," reminded Phryne.

Collins was looking slightly anxiously from one of them to the other. They both made him – differently – nervous, but as part of his investigation, he felt there was something that needed cleared up.

Jack, as ever attuned to his subordinate's concerns, raised his eyebrows in mute acceptance.

"There's one thing I don't quite understand, sir?"

"Go ahead, Collins."

"How was it that Mr Cosworth was able to get both of you into that room, and in cuffs all by himself?"

"You can blame my Aunt Prudence, Hugh," said Phryne grimly.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Fisher?" Constable Collins was thoroughly perplexed.

"Aunt Pru, although largely in favour of the Inspector and I having taken such a giant leap towards respectability, is still of the view that my behaviour leaves something to be desired, and in particular, has asked me to try to leave my pistol behind when attending social functions." She reflected. "To be entirely fair, which is something I prefer to avoid being if at all possible, I wouldn't have ended up in jail that time if my gun hadn't been at the ball with me."

Then she looked very warmly at the Inspector.

"Equally, I wouldn't have acquired an extremely handsome husband, who's proved to be extraordinarily handy for all kinds of things."

Jack hid his eyes in his hand and prayed that she wouldn't decide that this was a good time to enumerate his … handy qualities. Collins was already blushing furiously and didn't know where to look.

"In summary, Hugh, Cosworth was the only person in the room with a firearm, and I rather took exception to the idea of him using it on the Inspector; so the minor inconvenience of being locked up for a bit seemed a small price to pay." She grinned. "Especially since Aunt Pru has yet to learn of the existence of my lock pick, so she can't take exception to that."

Collins' relief to have got to the bottom of the story without further embarrassment was palpable; until he bethought himself of the matter of the lock pick's usual location, and raised a finger as if to ask a follow-up.

Jack caught his eye, and shook his head slightly.

The hint was taken.

"Here we are, Jack!" Phryne exclaimed. "A letterhead with the Cosworths' address. Shall we get over there? I don't think we're going to get anything useful in here just now; if whatever was so secret was in plain sight, it must have been removed."

He acquiesced. "I can't say I'm looking forward to owning up that, rather than find her diamond necklace, we've lost her husband; but we'll have to face the music some time. Collins, secure the scene, and I'll see you back at the station."

Despite the fact that they had arrived in Miss Fisher's Hispano-Suiza, she agreed to let Jack drive – she told him kindly that his double-declutch was coming along beautifully, and that they might not want to shock Mrs Cosworth from the outset.

Her husband, who had passed the force's Advanced and Evasive Driving test with flying colours, thanked her politely for her encouragement and the Almighty for small mercies as he took his seat behind the wheel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Phryne used to regard her Aunt Pru's residence as A Bit Fussy, though she couldn't deny the pool had come in handy on more than one occasion. Her reaction to the Cosworth mansion was therefore a sharp intake of breath.

At least, she reflected, Aunt Pru understood Comfort. The Cosworths appeared to have decided to display their mining heritage chiefly in a Spartan style: vast expanses of unforgiving stonework were unrelieved by such niceties as climbing plants or ornamental box. Unlike many of Toorak's gorgeous edifices, it was stark – a plain statement of enormous wealth. The few columns were the plainest Doric, the gardens were laid out formally, and the door was opened by a gentleman in morning dress who wasn't happy to see them. He probably wasn't ever happy to see anyone.

"Yes?" he asked forbiddingly. Jack, however, had stormed sterner fortresses than this one, and coolly held up his badge.

"We would like to see Mrs Cosworth."

"I will see if she is At Home, sir, madam. Please wait here."

"He can't be much good as a butler if he doesn't even know whether the boss is in," remarked Phryne snidely, in a not-quite-quiet enough voice as he shimmered away, unhurriedly. She regarded his rear view speculatively.

Knowing full well that she would have understood perfectly the meaning of the phrase the butler used, Jack concluded that she had decided to be Bad Cop.

Accordingly, when the butler returned to usher them into the Rose Room (apparently), Jack smiled in a friendly manner and led the charge.

The Rose Room was occupied not only by Mrs Cosworth, but also by a middle-aged man whose moustache was far too well tended for Phryne's liking. They both stood to greet their guests.

If there was such a thing as Old Money in Melbourne, Mrs Cosworth was it. Not by a flicker of an eye did she lose composure when informed of the purpose of their visit.

"What you say is quite extraordinary, Detective Inspector. And I'm afraid I don't know who this woman is."

"The Honourable Phryne Fisher, Detective," announced Phryne in clipped tones, presenting her card. "I was also at lunch with your husband today. He had asked for assistance on the matter of a missing diamond necklace."

Mrs Cosworth pursed her lips. "I had no idea Herbert had stooped to paying a private investigator to do what is properly the work of the police."

Jack's poker face remained intact, and gave no clue as to his level of enjoyment of the exchange.

"You'll be amazed the depths to which a man will stoop when the rewards are _attractive_ enough," smiled Phryne. "And we hadn't actually got round to discussing my fee. Perhaps he thought it would be rude to talk money over lunch. Good breeding will always out, won't it, Mrs Cosworth?"

The matron's gaze became positively flinty.

Deciding it was time he rescued the interview with the new widow before it resulted in any more sudden deaths, Jack stepped in hastily.

"We did, however, discuss one or two matters in relation to the business, and I wondered if you might be able to help us with some initial enquiries, Mrs Cosworth? And, forgive me …" he tailed off politely, looking at the gentleman, who extended a businesslike hand.

"Jim Cosworth, Chief Operating Officer of Consolidated Copper. I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself at the outset … the news about my father has been … rather shocking." He shook his head in disbelief.

"Mr Cosworth," Jack nodded. "Were you at the office this afternoon?"

"Yes – for a while. I left slightly early, I had an appointment with Mother." He looked at her. "We should convene an emergency Board meeting, Mother."

Mrs Cosworth shook her head impatiently. "Don't be ridiculous, James. Everyone will have left town for the weekend. By the time we reach them, it will be too late to do anything until Monday in any case."

Phryne found their ability to parse Cosworth's murder in the context of business affairs on such short notice … remarkable. And not a little chilling.

Jack could see she was itching to speak up again, and forestalled her.

"I apologise, Mrs Cosworth, but I have just a couple of questions – firstly, can you confirm where you were this afternoon between the hours of three and five pm?"

"Here, Inspector." This, at her most haughty. He was not left in any doubt as to his temerity for asking the question.

"Thank you. And for both of you – do you know of anyone who might have wanted Mr Cosworth Senior dead?"

"On the contrary, Inspector, it was in all of our interests for him to remain very much alive," interjected James.

"How so, sir?"

Cosworth hesitated for a moment, and after a silent exchange of glances with his mother, gave a slight, acquiescent nod. "What I am about to tell you, Inspector, constitutes inside information, and I can only disclose it because of the murder investigation. My father was in very private, but well-advanced talks to sell the company to a much larger rival. Most of the shares in Consolidated Copper are in family hands, but a few are traded on the market, and they will be worth a lot more if this gets out. That's why we have to have the Board meeting, so that we can release a statement – although with father gone, there's every chance the deal won't go through." He fixed Jack with a steady gaze. "I don't know what procedures you have for dealing with this kind of situation, but until we have had the chance to tell everyone what's going on, I must ask you to tell no-one – or at least, as few people as possible."

"That goes for you too, Miss Fisher," said Mrs Cosworth icily.

"Received and understood," replied Phryne with a glittering smile that told Jack to get her out of the building as soon as possible. He briefly thanked both Cosworths, and began to move to the door, taking Phryne's arm quite firmly as he did. At first she showed every sign of coming quietly, but then halted suddenly at the door, and turned back with a seraphic expression. Jack's heart sank, and he studied his shoes closely.

"Oh, and Mrs Cosworth? Your necklace? Your butler has it," remarked Phryne casually.

That, finally, rattled the matron.

"Innes? Impossible, and downright insulting to suggest it, Miss Fisher."

She shrugged. "Have it your own way, but you really ought to look after your household staff a little better. His shoes have newspaper covering holes in the soles, his cuffs have been turned once and are frayed, his nails are bitten to the quick, no doubt due to money worries, and there's a suitably-shaped bulge in the breast pocket of his coat."

She gave a wintry smile.

"Don't worry, Mrs Cosworth, there will be no charge for my services – on this occasion."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

She slammed the car door with more force than was strictly necessary.

"Piqued, repiqued and capoted, Jack. But my God, what a dreadful woman. What a dreadful _family_."

He tipped his head in agreement. "It's certainly the first time anyone in my experience has reacted to notification of the murder of a family member by arranging a Board meeting." And turned to look at her.

"I think it would be worth getting to know a bit more about Consolidated Copper, don't you?"

"Definitely, Jack. Where do we start?"

"The Public Record Office seems as good a place as any, but it won't open until Monday. We need to know who's involved, and what assets." He started up the Hispano and let in the clutch. "Impressive skills on the necklace, by the way, Miss Fisher."

She grinned at that.

"I feel sorry for Innes – or I would, if he hadn't been so unpleasant. Mind you, anyone would be worn down working in such a household. I wonder if she'll have you back to press charges? I have high hopes she'll simply turn him off without a reference rather than have to get involved with the police any further."

He poked her ribs at that, eliciting an indignant squeak. "I'll thank you to remember it wasn't the police who riled her in the first place."

She had the grace to admit the truth of that. "Oh well, if he turns up at the door, we'll just have to see if Mr Butler needs some help."

 _How very like you, Mrs Robinson_ , he thought, quirking a smile at the blameless road. "In the meantime, the only thing Mr Butler is going to need help with is consuming dinner. What on earth are we going to do until Monday?"

His heavy hint appeared to fall on deaf ears. "Well, we can definitely have another go at James Cosworth, and we're due at Aunt Pru's for lunch tomorrow. And I want someone to tell me about copper mining in Victoria."

"I can do that." He gave her a sideways glance. "There isn't any."

"What do you mean, there isn't any? We live in a country absolutely groaning with natural resources. What about the mines up at Bendigo and Ballarat?"

"Groaning with gold, Miss Fisher – or at least, they used to be. Mostly mined out now. Our nearest copper is probably in New South Wales, or South Australia – which is why I want to know what on earth Consolidated Copper is doing in Melbourne. I can only assume they were planning to diversify."

"Diversify? Into what? If it's millinery, I may be interested. I've not seen a decent cloche since that gorgeous scarlet confection I saw in Bairnsdale – and I was mysteriously distracted from acquiring it."

He laughed. It was odd how just the novelty of the sound still had the capacity to make her heart thrill a little.

 _Still having fun, then. Good oh._

"I doubt it! If I had to guess, I'd say coal – but that's all in state control, so it's hard to see why the Cosworths would be interested."

Phryne pouted. "It's beyond me right now, Jack. And frankly, having been lunched and handcuffed, discovered a murder and solved a particularly Petty Larceny, I think I'm long overdue one of Mr Butler's cocktails."

Jack grinned. Mr Butler was having dinner with Dot and Hugh, but had promised to leave a pie in the oven. He thought he could probably manage to mix Mrs Robinson a fairly mean Negroni by himself – the instant she came off duty.

When they had returned to 221B The Esplanade, and the situation was explained to Miss Fisher, Mrs Robinson materialised with gratifying haste. They had run out of vermouth and experimented with Lillet, which worked so well that it required a celebration of its own.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Saturday dawned, but no-one in the Robinson household was paying attention at the time.

At around nine-thirty, though, a leisurely breakfast was taken, to the accompaniment of discussion of the latest case; and while Mrs Robinson might have lingered in bed for another hour, Miss Fisher was eager to fit in a visit to Mr Cosworth Junior. And his moustache.

Jack pointed out that selective shaving was not necessarily evidence of a criminal mind, although he was prepared to make an exception in the case of handsome aviators of Phryne's post-war acquaintance. A formal truce was declared, with only a slight narrowing of the eyes, and the decision taken to walk to James Cosworth's residence with an agreement that Mr B would collect them in half an hour to take them to Prudence Stanley's for lunch.

Not even Jack would have tried to be polite about Cosworth's moustache this time. The COO of Consolidated Copper answered the door himself, clearly the worse for a very good night out the night before.

"Oh, it's you," was his ungracious greeting.

"Sorry, Mr Cosworth, is this a bad time?" asked Phryne sweetly.

"No, er ... no, come in," he said, opening the door wider to allow them through.

"Apologies, sir – we should have realised you would have needed to drown your sorrows," said Jack carefully.

"What? Oh. Yes. Yes, terrible blow."

Somehow, they felt, his Grieving Relative act was lacking conviction; so Phryne decided to pounce.

"We were hoping that you might be able to give us a little insight into the workings of the Board of your company," she asked. "Who really ran the show? Was it you?"

At this, Cosworth barked a laugh, then collected himself and smiled thinly.

"No, Miss Fisher, my father was the Chairman and had the casting vote in all matters."

"Did you get on well with him?"

"As well as any grown child gets on with a dominant parent, Inspector," he replied. Fully in control now, his expression was only a touch sardonic. "My father had great ambitions for my career, so I had to bear with his fairly autocratic style."

"Really?" said Phryne, all honeyed interest now. "Do you know what those ambitions were?"

Cosworth shrugged. "I am his only son. It made sense that he would want me to take over the reins from him in due course."

"Ah," said Jack, "so you were being groomed for Chairmanship? That must have been a tall order."

There was a dismissive quality in Cosworth's smile. "When you're bred to command, Inspector, it comes naturally. I'm sure you yourself understand the qualities inherent in the officer class. It's not something one teaches, is it?"

The Richmond boy who had commanded a platoon in the trenches from the moment he achieved the heady rank of Lance Corporal could only smile and nod as though hearing a self-evident truth. Phryne saw the tightening of his jaw and became the tigress.

"Had your father spoken to you of his succession plans, Mr Cosworth?"

"Oh yes," he barely glanced at her, focusing purely on Jack. There were, occasionally, people who lacked the perceptive skills to spot Miss Fisher on the warpath – at least, until it was too late to take evasive action.

"Do you know, it's odd – he didn't mention anything about it over lunch yesterday," she remarked conversationally. Jack, meantime, held Cosworth's gaze steadily and said nothing at all. It would have been difficult to say which was the more unnerving experience for the junior executive, who turned to Phryne with a faint smile.

"It would have been surprising if he had, Miss Fisher. There are rivalries in any boardroom, and ours was no exception. My father was a clever man – far too clever to discuss such matters with …" his voice became patronisingly oily, "… outsiders."

Phryne wrinkled her brow in a confused manner.

"So clever that someone shot him dead in his own office?"

There was a fine line between professional disinterest and rudeness; at that moment, it yawned to the scale of the Grand Canyon.

Jack affected to hear the car draw up outside, and said they would let themselves out; Mr B fortunately arrived as Phryne was storming out of the door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Phryne's Aunt Prudence had arranged one of the events that she called a Select Luncheon, Phryne called a Dead Bore and Jack tried to avoid giving a name to because he didn't like causing offence to his in-laws.

There were a mere dozen people around the table. That was the key to the Select Luncheon – all the leaves were taken out of the table, and the epergne was put on the sideboard to be admired at a distance. Nonetheless, it was bound to be purely bad luck rather than wilful malice that had Phryne and Jack sitting almost at opposite corners of the table. With social sleight of hand that could have been applauded by the Lord Lyon King of Arms, Aunt Pru had put Jack three places down from her right (because to place him at her right hand would have put him in the position of Favoured Son, and she still hadn't quite forgiven him for not inviting her to the wedding), and that meant Phryne sat almost as near to the foot as the table as it was possible to be without actually having to help serve the soup.

She consoled herself that the gentleman to her right seemed like a decent sort, and certainly, during the fish course, he acquitted himself well. A Mr Miles Evans, he would only confess to being In Trade and asked her politely about her interest in the theatre. Gilbert and Sullivan therefore got them through some mouth-watering plaice, and once she'd done her duty in the entrée, she turned gladly back to him when a flummery made the rounds.

"So, come on, Mr Evans – don't be coy, what aspect of trade is entertaining you?"

He gave a half-laugh, clearly enjoying her company as much as she was his. She slanted a glance to Jack, at the other end of the table, making brave forays against an apparently tongue-tied would-be flapper. Sensing her attention, he set out a clear list of penance that would need to be fulfilled to make up for his current trials.

The ghost of a wink sufficed to seal the bargain.

"Mrs Robinson, I'm pretty confident that if I say I'm In Copper, you'll want to go straight back to Trial By Jury!" laughed Mr Evans.

"That's a dreadful assumption to make, Mr Evans," she chided. "A lady doesn't have to _pass for forty-three in the dusk with the light behind her_ to have an interest in mining."

"Oh, I don't mine it. My business is further down the track – quite literally." He was warming now to a subject that was clearly close to his heart. "I make wire."

She responded as politely as she knew how, but he was obviously used to the reaction.

"Look around you, Mrs Robinson. The electric lights – the telephone in the hallway – everything my company does is helping people like your aunt join the twentieth century in suitable style."

He leaned back in his chair and inclined his head to his captivating companion.

"Melbourne is probably the fastest-growing city in Australia right now, Mrs Robinson, and certainly the one that needs what we do more than anywhere else. We're in exciting times."

Phryne would have been a marble statue to be immune to such simple, patent confidence.

"When you put it like that, Mr Evans, I can rather see your point." With a grateful glance at Mr Robinson, she added, "Where do we get our copper from, though? I'd heard there wasn't an ounce to be mined in the state of Victoria?"

It was a judgement on the women of Melbourne society that he was surprised – but then, the Women of Melbourne weren't married to Jack Robinson. Or at least, only one of them was, and she had firm views on the subject, so that particular circumstance was unlikely to change any time soon.

To his credit, Evans took only moments to recover. "You're right. We have to bring in all our supplies from other states. I confess, I'd had high hopes of securing a single source for the foreseeable future, but I'm not sure that offer's still on the table."

"Oh?" Phryne's instincts were alerted.

"Yes," he said solemnly. "I had some rather bad news just this morning, so we may need to start again at square one."

"I don't suppose …" asked Phryne delicately, "this could have anything to do with the Cosworths?"

Evans' demeanour was suddenly transformed. Jovial had become Guarded in an instant.

"Why do you say that, Mrs Robinson?"

Phryne hesitated, picking her words as carefully as steps across a minefield.

"I lunched yesterday with Mr Cosworth, The _late_ Mr Cosworth," she emphasised. "It wasn't at all clear why Consolidated Copper would have an office in Melbourne, but what you're saying makes me think there might have been a very logical explanation."

He regarded her with new respect.

"I don't suppose it will hurt to tell you now, as there's a good chance the whole deal has fallen through. We were going to buy Consolidated Copper – at Herbert Cosworth's own instigation. For us, it was the perfect answer to our supply issues – they have some great assets that would see us fulfil all Melbourne's needs. He was the driving force behind it, though, and I just don't know what the view of the Board will be now that he's dead."

Phryne nodded sagely, and as their hostess chose that moment to rise from the table and invite her guests to the drawing room for coffee, their conversation was drawn to an abrupt close.

She didn't mind. Making her way as quickly as was polite to her husband's side, she muttered, "Conservatory, Jack, as soon as it suits you."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

As soon as he opened the conservatory door, she grabbed his hand and dragged him into its depths, coming to a halt behind a row of verdant parlour palms, and immediately starting to talk excitedly.

"Jack, the man I was sitting next to at lunch is the one who was going to buy Consolidated Copper, and there are a few things he said that didn't quite stack up with James Cosworth's story."

"Go on," he said, placing one hand on her waist. He decided that he might as well make the most of the opportunity.

"First of all, Evans – that's the man I was sitting next to – Jack, pay attention."

"I am paying attention," he mumbled from somewhere in the region of her collar bone. "You were telling me about Evans."

She couldn't really pretend that she minded the form his attention was taking, and continued.

"Evans isn't a rival to the Cosworths. They're his suppliers. That's what he was interested in – making sure he had enough copper for the wire he makes. _That's nice_."

That wasn't a reference to copper wire, he thought, and smirked.

"The thing is, though, Jack, all that stuff that Cosworth was telling us about him being groomed for the Chairmanship – well, it has to be nonsense. If – _mmm_ – the company was sold, he'd never be Chairman, would he?"

"S'pose not," his reply was a whisper in her ear.

"So maybe last night he wasn't drowning his sorrows, but celebrating? As his father's successor, he would be able to reject the takeover. Jack, I want to go back to the offices. Maybe we can find some sort of evidence of James Cosworth's plans for the business."

"'n a minute."

For a determined upholder of law and order in the City of Melbourne, he was remarkably easily distracted, she thought, before joining in the distraction with enthusiasm.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The offices of Consolidated Copper were deserted on a Saturday afternoon, and with Hugh Collins, alerted by telephone, waiting for them with a set of keys, they didn't even have to resort to illicit tactics to gain entrance.

"What exactly is it we're looking for, sir?" he asked, as they surveyed James Cosworth's office.

"Hard to say, Collins. Anything that isn't to do with the business of copper mining, I'd say," Jack replied.

"I'll take this cabinet, Hugh, if you take the other one, and the Inspector can search the desk," instructed Phryne.

For a few minutes there was silence, as they each worked steadily through files, letters and other documents. Then Hugh, who'd started at the bottom of his allotted cabinet, spoke up.

"What about this?" The others came to join him.

"Good work, Collins," said Jack. "A map, but not of a copper mine – where is it, Wonthaggi? That's the State Coal Mine."

"Is there anything else there, Hugh? Any letters, or contracts?"

The constable looked back in the drawer.

"No, nothing. Just the map."

Phryne looked at Jack. "Well, it's a start. You said it might be coal – it looks as though you might be right. Is it worth going down there for a look around?"

"Probably," he conceded, "but not tonight. It would be dark by the time we got there. Thank you, Collins, we can lock up here. You get back to that family of yours."

"Thank you, sir."

Restoring order to the office took a few minutes, and then they descended to the street, the map tucked into Jack's pocket.

"Home, Miss Fisher?"

"Home, Inspector."

As Mr Butler garaged the Hispano, they let themselves in to 221B, and found a hand-delivered note sitting inside the door. It was addressed to Phryne.

"Dear Miss Fisher," she read aloud. "I feel I should apologise for my ill-mannered behaviour this morning; I would also welcome the opportunity to explain something of the nature of my family's business. If you were able to travel to – Jack, listen! – to Wonthaggi tomorrow, there is something I would like to show you which may be of interest. Sincerely, James Cosworth."

"It's a trap," said Jack, with absolute certainty.

"Of course it is, we shall have to make a plan," she replied.

"Phryne, you're not honestly planning on going?" he asked incredulously. "If James Cosworth is the one who killed his father, and he thinks you are suspicious, there's every chance he plans to kill you too."

"Don't worry, Jack, you can come too. And quite possibly Bert and Cec as well." She strode through to the kitchen, where Mr Butler was now engaged in preparing the evening meal.

"Mr B, can you stretch the meal to include the Red Raggers as well? And get a message to them that we want them to join us?"

"Of course, Miss," he bowed his head slightly.

"Good. Right, Jack, cocktails in the parlour. I've got an idea."

He rolled his eyes and reached for the gin bottle. The condemned man would at least be allowed a stiff drink.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

The following morning saw Miss Fisher at the wheel of the Hispano, bowling cheerfully down the long road to Wonthaggi. At a discreet distance behind her was a truck containing Bert, Cec and Jack. In the back of the truck, wrapped in tarpaulin and strapped down firmly, was a motorbike.

Conversation in the cab of the truck was desultory.

"D'you think she'll be okay, Inspector?"

"I have no idea, Albert. What concerns me most is that the idea that she won't be never enters her head."

When they were a few miles short of the town, the truck stopped and Bert and Cec unloaded the bike. Jack hopped on.

"Right, I'm going to head straight to the mine. You two follow Miss Fisher in to town and wait there for us as we agreed. If we haven't reappeared in an hour, send in the cavalry."

They nodded agreement, and he turned the machine cross country.

Phryne pulled up outside the General Store, and looked around with interest. Coal had done a great deal for the town's population, but it didn't have the appearance of prosperity. As she stepped out of the car, she heard the sound of another vehicle – looking round, she saw Cosworth approaching from behind her; and behind him, the truck with Bert and Cec in it, which had stopped at a discreet distance.

She waved cheerily at Cosworth, and he leaned across to open the passenger door.

"Good afternoon, Miss Fisher, glad you could make it. Hop in – the road to the place we're going is in no state for that beautiful motor of yours."

"How exciting!" she gushed, taking her seat beside him, and placing her bag with the reassuring weight of the revolver it contained on her knee.

The journey to the mine was enlivened with small talk as to her journey down, and before long they were pulling up outside the wooden buildings.

"Where are we, Mr Cosworth?" asked Phryne ingenuously.

"This is the Wonthaggi coal mine, Miss Fisher," he replied.

"Coal? I didn't know your business was in that too, Mr Cosworth?"

"It isn't, Miss Fisher – or at least, not yet. But I've been in talks with the management here, and I've got a very lucrative contract in my sights. There are some working practices that we use in our mines that can be directly applied here – and with rail travel growing so fast, they're going to need every ounce of coal they can get."

As they talked, they were walking across to the door of one of the buildings – clearly some kind of an office. The Inspector was nowhere to be seen, but Phryne's sharp eyes spotted what looked very much like motorcycle tyre tracks, and she had to be satisfied.

Turning to Cosworth, she asked, in her most innocent tones, "But what about the sale of your company, Mr Cosworth? Won't that get in the way of this plan?"

"Oh, there's no question of the company being sold," he said dismissively. "That was just a mad idea of my father's. Consolidated Copper has been in our family for generations, and we could never have simply sold out."

"Your father seemed to think it most probable, though," argued Phryne. "After all, when he thought the Inspector and I had got wind of the idea, he went so far as to lock us up!"

Cosworth sneered. "He was a fool."

He opened the door to the office, and crossed the room to its window.

"If you look up there, Miss Fisher, you'll see the transport trucks that take the workers to the coal face, sitting at the entrance to the mine." He looked at his watch. "Good, we've timed it nicely. The face they've been working on is mucked out, so I'm going to use one of our techniques to blast another section while the mine's empty – it's on a timer. Excuse me just a moment."

He left the room, and a moment later, Phryne saw him cross the courtyard to one of the other sheds.

Even as he entered it, the door to the office swung open and Jack slunk into the office.

"Jack! He's practically confessed already."

"I know, I was listening. That's what worries me – he must be planning to kill you, Phryne. Can't you come away now? We have enough to pull him in for questioning."

Neither of them had noticed the office door opening again behind them, and when Jack collapsed on the floor, Phryne was completely taken by surprise.

"Very clever, Miss Fisher. I always knew I didn't like you. I'm sorry, but I'll simply have to get rid of you."

She turned to look at James Cosworth, who was now holding a pistol pointed straight at her, and cursed the impulse that had let her place her bag out of reach on the desk. "What have you done to him?" she asked, with a calmness she didn't feel.

"Don't worry, he'll wake with a nasty headache before long. After you, Miss Fisher; I have a tragic accident to arrange." He gestured towards the door with his pistol. Head held high, she stalked past him – leaving herself in perfect position to receive a blow from the butt of his gun to her head that had her collapsing over his shoulder, insensate.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Jack's head was still spinning as he came to, but he realised that the room was now empty, and the door stood ajar. Dragging himself to his feet, he staggered out and around the side of the building. Squinting, he looked up at the mineshaft.

And went cold.

He could only have been unconscious for a few minutes, but in that time, Cosworth had got Phryne into his car and driven up the hill to the mine entrance. As he watched, Cosworth hauled her apparently lifeless body into the crew transport. Moving to the controls he set it in motion – down to the blast site.

Jack's head cleared miraculously and he was running before he knew it. Gunning the motorbike and flicking up a couple of gears, he leaned to pluck a length of wood from a pile of supports with his left hand and steered up hill to the mine entrance. It was an inelegant approach. Being partly blinded by fear will do that to a motorcyclist.

On hearing the engine, Cosworth turned. When he saw Jack heading up the hill, he pulled out his pistol, and took careful aim. Jack slung the beam at his head, and didn't even bother to watch it connect.

Then Jack shouted – more of a scream, straight from the solar plexus. Wake up and jump, God damn you, woman.

" _PHRYNE!"_

No response, and the transport was starting to build momentum. Jack had to duck his head and tip the bike to follow it into the tunnel and down the tracks, but accelerated, and when he was close enough, abandoned the bike and scrambled on to the back of the transport, hauling with all his weight on the brake. The gradient was already against him, but he managed to halt it, and half-ran, half fell down its side to reach her.

Her eyes were still closed and she was slumped in the footwell. Reaching to lift her out, simple physics betrayed him, until he could tuck a foot under the edge of the truck for purchase.

Then he carried her out of the tunnel.

Up a 1:1 slope, while suffering a mild concussion, at something which approximated to a run except for the moment when he inexplicably collapsed and had to pick them both up to press on.

On reaching daylight, he simply placed one arm round her waist and the other at the back of her head, and rolled them both as far down the hill as he could.

The earth rumbled its applause.

No, not applause. That was the blast.

For a few seconds, there was no sound beyond a slight ringing in his ears.

Then he turned his attention to her.

She was breathing.

"Phryne. Darling Phryne, are you okay? Talk to me? Please, Phryne?

No response for a few moments; but then, a very small smile appeared and angels sang selected excerpts from Handel's _Messiah_ overhead. Then a whisper.

"Handily done, Jack."

Thus reassured, he responded by placing his head on the ground next to hers and passing out again.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Higher, Jack!"

"There?"

"A bit higher … yes, there! Ah, perfect!"

Phryne released her skirt and smoothed it down. Turning to look in the mirror, she grinned.

"You'd never know, would you?"

Jack gave a satisfied smile. "Well, I won't tell your Aunt Prudence if you don't."

She lifted her skirt again, and swiftly snapped the pearl handled revolver out of the custom-made thigh holster her extremely resourceful husband had had made in soft, creamy-coloured leather. Sighting along the barrel, she mimed taking a shot, and then returned it snugly to the holster.

"You're so clever, Jack. This is wonderful, and I can wear it under anything. Well, almost anything," she corrected herself.

"As long as you wear it when there's the slightest possibility of someone pulling a weapon on you – and even occasionally when there isn't – I'll be happy," he said.

She turned back to him and brought his head to hers for a quick kiss in thanks. He winced.

"Sorry, Jack. I forgot about your bruise. Come and sit down, I promise I'll be gentle."

"Thank you, Miss Fisher. Er – perhaps remove the holster first, though? I promise not to pull a weapon on you."

"I'm very sorry to hear it, Inspector. I shall ask Mr Butler for your malted milk immediately."

"You know perfectly well what I meant, and you'll do no such thing, Miss Fisher."


End file.
